Lecter Psychiatry: Joe Carroll
by John Lee Hawk
Summary: It's serial killer vs serial killer! Hannibal Lecter visits Joe Carroll in prison, and expectantly brings something back to his home.


Hastings 13

Lecter Psychiatry: Joe Carroll

(I do not own Hannibal or The Following. There will be a disclaimer at the end.)

Hannibal walked through the prison with guards at his side. So, this was the place society decided that people like him belonged. Tiny cells, housing inmates so dangerous they were not even allowed contact with other prisoners. All they could do was wait until they were strapped down and a needle pieced their arm. It gave Hannibal a sense of pride, really, to know he had been able to avoid that fate for so long.

They led him to a room with a metal table and two chairs. A tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair sat handcuffed to the table. The security cameras and audio were turned off per Hannibal's request – a request that was only granted through bribery. The inmate was around Hannibal's height, with a larger build. Yet Hannibal was unafraid, figuring he had more experience as a fighter.

The inmate's name was Joe Carroll. He was sitting on Death Row, convicted of murdering fourteen young women over the span of a year. His modus operandi involved torture, evisceration, then gouging out their eyes. The last part was his signature. Joseph Carroll had been a literature professor, with an emphasis on the Romantic Period. Before his exposure as a serial killer, he had been known for his charisma in the lecture hall and his failure as a novelist.

Sitting in a room usually meant for legal counsel, Joe had his eyes closed; as if either sleeping or meditating. He slowly opened his eyes and formed a smile that seemed both welcoming and predatory at the same time.

"My, aren't you a sharply-dressed man," he said. A naturalized US citizen from the United Kingdom, Joe Carroll had never been able to shed his London accent.

"Good afternoon," Hannibal responded with his own foreign accent. "My name is Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

"Yes, I heard you pulled quite a few strings to meet with me."

"That is true," Hannibal confirmed, pulling up a chair for himself. "You could say I was curious."

"Curious, eh?" Joe asked. "Curiosity can be a funny thing. So, you're here to ask me questions? Pick my brain, is that it?"

There was something strangely magnetic about Joe Carroll. Hannibal could see the charisma Joe's students had mentioned. Of course, Hannibal was immune to such charms, his blank stare never changing. Joe noticed this too, and it intrigued him.

"I wanted to see if we were really so different," Hannibal replied.

"Really?" Joe flashed an enigmatic smile. "We share a similar hobby?"

"What did the act of killing mean for you, Professor Carroll?" Hannibal asked, ignoring Joe's question. Joe shifted around in his chair.

"Edgar Allen Poe believed that there was an insanity to art," Joe replied. "It couldn't just be seen, it had to be felt; physically and emotionally."

"So killing was art, for you?" Hannibal inquired.

"Poe equated death with beauty. Poe believed that art was about beauty. That nothing was more beautiful than the death of a beautiful woman. And to bereave beauty was to elevate one's soul."

"Edgar Allen Poe also believed that the eyes were one's identity," Hannibal added. "Is that why you would gouge them out?"

"It was a tribute to The Telltale Heart and The Black Cat, really," Joe answered.

Hannibal was silent, looking down at the table as he pondered what next to say.

"I've always been more oriented toward science," he said.

"Oh, I think there's a little bit of an artist in you," Joe responded. "You certainly have a flair for style."

Hannibal smirked.

"I earned a scholarship to Johns Hopkins University with my drawings."

"Ah. Drawing, painting, writing, and singing; it's all art, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal looked over at the small window to their right, their only source of light.

"I don't see people as art, Professor Carroll," he retorted.

"What do you see them as, Dr. Lecter?"

Hannibal looked back at Joe, then leaned across the table to stare Joe in the eyes.

"A delicacy."

Joe's face changed from hospitable to looking like he had just smelled something putrid, keeping him in a shocked silence for nearly a full minute.

"Oh my God," he muttered. Hannibal stood up. Joe lifted his gaze upward, wondering what this man would say next.

"I didn't come here just to ask you questions," Hannibal started. "I came here to gloat, Professor Carroll. I think you're a narcissist whose vanity led to his downfall. You see yourself as a god, yet you're a failure. You failed as a novelist, to you tried to be a killer. You failed at that, too. Those who can't do teach, Professor."

Joe's nostrils started to flare.

"I wouldn't say I've completely failed as a killer, Dr. Lecter."

"These walls and prison guards would disagree," Hannibal replied, moving toward the door.

Joe shook his head.

"Oh, I make be in here, but I'm pretty influential on the outside."

Hannibal stopped, then walked back to the table.

"Influence?"

"You could call it a following," Joe replied. "The Internet is blocked, here, but no problem can withstand the assault of sustained thinking. My novel may have been poorly-received, but there were a good number of people who enjoyed it. People who felt that it spoke to them, that I had connected with them. After communicating through letters and personal visits, they were able to set up a covert connection to the Internet. And as a result, I have been able to make a lot of friends."

Hannibal nodded.

"Always the center of attention," he said. "Once a teacher, you're now in charge of your own fan-club. Perhaps the main difference between us, Professor Carroll, is that you are an extrovert and I am an introvert. You like to charm people, to teach them. I'm sure that helped in the lecture hall. I have no need to be in the spotlight, to entertain people. I am content to reside in the shadows, to remain undetected."

"Yet you came here to me," Joe said back. "Why is that?"

"To learn from the mistakes of others," Hannibal answered. "I don't make art with my kills, Professor Carroll. I cook them."

"You're not even human," Joe replied. "You're a… demon."

"Ask yourself this, Professor Carroll: which one of us is prison, and which one is free?"

Hannibal smirked.

"You son of a bitch!" Joe shouted. He stood up but the handcuffs kept him from lunging at Hannibal. The guards heard Joe and opened the door. Hannibal backed away as if in fear, but Joe could see from his face that there was no fear.

"I'm afraid I must end my visit, Professor Carroll," Hannibal said as he exited the room.

Guards dragged Joe out of the room after Hannibal, and marched him in the opposite direction.

"You think you're safe from me, Hannibal Lecter?!" Joe shouted. "You really think you'll be safe out there!?"

"Farewell, Professor Carroll," Hannibal replied before they were out of earshot of each other.

Too emotional, Hannibal thought. No wonder it only took the FBI a year to catch them. Had people like Jack Crawford or especially Will Graham been on Joe Carroll's case, the hunt would have been much shorter.

Hannibal drove back to Baltimore for a quiet evening at home. Listening to classical music on a CD player, he made an elegant dish out of a leftover arm and sipped a fine wine. The comforts of being a free man, able to live in a large house and ingest whatever he wanted. Not only that, but the privacy to live alone, too.

A black sedan parked outside of Hannibal's house. When lights all seemed turned off, five killers stepped out of the car. Emma was their leader, armed with a butcher knife and sporting a pixie cut. Martin was a scrawny man, holding a sickle. Pete was a large, muscle-bound man – with a frame so large he had a hard time getting through tight doorways – carrying a trench knife. Khalid was an athletic young man, wielding a large meat hook. Tammie was the smallest, herself also armed with a butcher knife.

A sixth killer then emerged from the nearby alley.

"I think he's asleep," Jill told them. "I've been out here all night, and the coast looks clear."

"Okay, let's do this," Emma said. They walked up the steps, with Martin picking the lock. Stepping inside, they admitted it was a nice house. Very refined, with impeccable interior design. In their view, the only thing that would make it more beautiful would be Hannibal Lecter's corpse.

Emma, Tammie, Jill, and Pete went in separate directions. Khalid and Martin both went upstairs. Emma walked into Hannibal's kitchen, noting the fine cutlery and metal refrigerator. It looked like something out of a cooking show.

Martin made his way through Hannibal's dining room, his eyes transfixed upon the horns placed above the fireplace. He wondered what animal they came from.

Tammie opened the door the Hannibal's office, looking at the chairs where he and his patients would sit. She had been in plenty of places like this, her parents often sent her to therapists like Hannibal. Killing him would be very satisfying, a good way of getting back at the two people who had made her life hell for so long. The people whom Joe Carroll's teachings had saved her from.

Jill lost herself in Hannibal's library. He had so many books! Not just any books, classic literature! Books from the Romantic Period! Joe Carroll would greatly enjoy these, she thought. If only she had time to read them.

Khalid and Pete slowly went from room-to-room on the second floor, searching for Hannibal. After finding guest rooms and storage closets, they came across what they figured would be the master bedroom. Quietly, they opened the door. Indeed, it was the master bedroom. But there was nobody sleeping in the bed.

"Where the hell is he?" Khalid whispered.

Emma walked from the kitchen to a pantry full of food. Not just food, but special ingredients for gourmet dishes. Hannibal Lecter was starting to remind her less of Dr. Phil and more of Gordon Ramsay. Then she noticed the strange packets of meat. Sealed in plastic, they had no labels. And they did not look like any beef or pork Emma had ever seen before. That was when she, a large, metal door caught her attention.

Opening it, she noticed it was a giant meat locker. However, something was different about the meat inside. As Emma walked in to examine it further, the door suddenly closed. She turned around and ran back to it, trying desperately to open it. It did not budge. She tried knocking on it, instead.

"Tammie, Martin!" she called out, then reminded herself not to wake up Hannibal. "Goddamn it."

Realizing the door would not open, Emma realized she would have to find another way out. Maybe there was another door, somewhere. But after she started walking was when she got a good look at the meat.

Emma screamed when she saw the frozen arms and legs.

"Emma?" Jill wondered aloud when she heard muffled screams. The sounded like Emma's, but she could not be sure. She made her way out of the library, not noticing the man behind her.

"What was that?" Khalid asked when he heard the sounds from downstairs.

"Sounded like Emma," Pete replied. As they walked back to the staircase, they heard Martin yell "Oh my God!"

"What?!" Khalid yelled. "What is it, Mar –"

His question was interrupted when he saw the reason why.

"Jesus Christ," Pete remarked.

Jill's body was all over the floor, a blood-stained meat cleaver near her severed head. Martin was standing a pool of her blood, staring at her limbs and appendages.

"Who did this to her?!" he cried, before somebody covered his mouth and drove a knife into his cervical vertebrae. Pulling the knife out and letting his body fall to the ground, Khalid and Pete saw Hannibal Lecter standing over Martin and Jill.

"You bastard!" Khalid hollered before charging at Hannibal. Pete ran to the kitchen, hoping to find Emma. Hannibal backed up, and Khalid slipped in Jill's blood. Picking up Martin's sickle, attacked again. Hannibal grabbed one of Khalid's wrist with his hand and blocked Khalid's meat hook with his knife. Positioning himself just right, Hannibal launched a powerful kick to Khalid's pelvis. Quickly recovering, Khalid swiped at him with the sickle, then with the meat hook. Hannibal ducked the first one, then dodged the other. Hannibal made a lowered strike at Khalid, then pulled back expectantly. Khalid prepared to attack again, but then felt lightheaded. Already covered in Jill's blood, he noticed his own flowing out of a cut artery. Hannibal smirked as Khalid fell to the floor, then left him to bleed out.

"Emma!" Pete shouted. "Emma!"

"Pete!" she called out. Making his way over to the meat locker, Pete finally freed her from the frozen necropolis.

"Emma, what are you doing in there?!" Pete asked. Before she could reply, they heard footsteps. Hannibal Lecter was standing at the doorway to the pantry.

Pete lunged at him, but Hannibal backed away. Pete struggled to get through the doorway because of his large frame, then the fighting continued. He picked up a table, then threw it at Hannibal. Hannibal caught it, but Pete then kicked the table. Sending Hannibal across the kitchen and slamming him into a wall.

"Emma, get Jill!" Pete called out, before picking up a pan and charging at him. Hannibal avoided the swipe from Pete's trench knife, but was hit by the pan. He grunted, then rolled on the floor before slashing Pete's Achilles tendon. Pete cried out, then got down on one knee.

Emma ran out of the kitchen, and shrieked when she saw Martin, Khalid, and Jill's bodies near the staircase. The Hell with this, she decided.

Before he could react, Hannibal plunged his knife into Pete's back. Pete was wounded, but not yet dead. He had enough life left in him to watch Hannibal pick up another meat cleaver and look at him in defiance before Hannibal hacked off Pete's head.

"Tammie!" Emma shouted.

"Emma, what is it?!" Tammie called out, still in Hannibal's office. Emma ran inside and started barricading the doors.

"Emma, what's going on? Where are the others?"

"They're dead!" Emma replied.

"What?!"

"They're dead!" Emma shouted hysterically. "Hannibal Lecter killed them!"

Suddenly, the blade of a cleaver punched through the door. Tammie shrieked, and both women backed up. The cleaver continued to chop, making a bigger hole in the door. Then, something was thrown through the hole at Emma and Tammie. It was Pete's head.

"Oh God!" Tammie screamed. Something started banging on the door, hard.

"We need to go, now!" Emma decided. Then started running for the ladder on the room's west corner, just in time for Hannibal Lecter to crash through the doors and throw a meat cleaver at Emma and Tammie. The cleaver barely missed them, embedding itself in the wall inches away from them.

Hannibal charged at Emma and Tammie, who backed away instinctively. Hannibal slashed at them with his knife, but they were too fast. Emma then let out a war cry and sprang toward Hannibal, trying to stab him with her own knife. Hannibal blocked the attack by grabbing her wrist, but she countered by punching him with her other hand.

Blood ran down Hannibal's face from his nose, and he let go of his knife to grab her fist, nearly crushing her hand in rage. Then, he used Emma's joints to flip her over onto the floor. Grabbing his knife, Hannibal put his knee on Emma's solar plexus to immobilize her.

"Get off her, asshole!" Tammie yelled, holding her knife downward and readying to strike. But before she could stab him, Hannibal turned around and brought his knife upward to stab her in the abdomen. Emma could only watch as Hannibal pulled the knife out and Tammie went down.

Emma shrieked as she threw her knife at Hannibal. He dodged, but it still grazed his shoulder. He grunted in pain as Emma stood and picked up a stag statue. Backing away, she picked up a large vase and started to make a backward diagonal turn to the ladder. Her goal was to lure Hannibal just far enough away from it. First she threw the vase, and Hannibal moved to the left to avoid it. Then she threw the stag statue. Hannibal dived out of its range before it slammed into a wall, and Emma used this as her opportunity to run toward the ladder.

Watching Emma scramble up the ladder, Hannibal decided to ambush her outside. Walking through the long hallway and past the bodies of Jill, Martin, and Khalid, Hannibal opened his front door at the same time Emma made it out the window and onto the sidewalk.

Gasping when she saw him, Emma sprinted to the car and unlocked it. Hannibal dashed toward her as she opened the front passenger door and pilfered through the glove compartment. Hannibal was just on top of her when she turned around and aimed a pistol at him.

There were a tense few seconds where neither moved or said anything. Emma got on her feet and Hannibal moved back two paces. She walked around the car to the driver's seat door.

"If I shoot this gun, police will come," Emma told Hannibal. "They'll see the bodies in your house, and what you keep in your meat locker."

Hannibal glared at Emma with his soulless, predatory eyes.

"If you pull that trigger, you'll lose all of your leverage," he told her. Emma opened the door, and put one foot in the car. It was then Hannibal decided she might have more use for him alive.

"Tell Joe Carroll not to send any more of his friends to my house," Hannibal said. Emma nodded, then got in the car, turned on the ignition, and drove away very fast. Hannibal Lecter went back inside to clean up the mess. Once everything was fixed up, he figured a dinner party would be a good way to celebrate his latest victory.

(I do not own Hannibal or The Following. Hannibal is owned by Thomas Harris and NBC. The Following is owned by FOX and Kevin Williamson.)


End file.
